


Grappling Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

by RangoAteMyBaby (FormallyKnownAsFreya)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dom Keith (Voltron), Frottage, Grinding, M/M, Making Out, Sub Lance (Voltron), hand to hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-11 23:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17456258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormallyKnownAsFreya/pseuds/RangoAteMyBaby
Summary: Lance discovers his feelings via several fist fights with Keith.





	Grappling Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

**Author's Note:**

> The people in my discord mentioned this in the nsfw headcanons channel and I couldn't resist a little ficlet for it. Enjoy!

Why is today different? Lance can’t figure it out as the sparring begins. **  
**

It really shouldn’t be different. This is something they do every week or so when tensions get high on the ship. At first, Shiro had to practically force them onto the training deck, pointing at them both, and ordering them to work it out. He doesn’t want to hear any more arguments from either of them and they aren’t to come out until the snark is  _gone_.

Shiro meant for them to talk but Keith wasn’t one for that. He always seems to have tight fists, ready to fly at a moments notice. And the first time they were shoved into the room they just seethed at each other. When Lance made a move towards the door to just leave Keith’s fists came up like a boxer.

“What are you doing?”

“Shiro said we gotta work it out,” Keith told him. “And I’m not talking to you with anything but my fists.”

“Oh yeah?” Lance said back combatively, raising his own clenched fists. “Well, I don’t want to talk to you either!”

“Then put up and shut up; if you can,” Keith had said, strong glare on his face.

That first fight was…it was barely above a schoolyard fight. They punched, kicked, and threw each other all over the deck. By the end of it, they were covered in bruises and scrapes. Lance’s lip was split to match Keith’s busted and bloody nose. There was nothing more they’d like than to pound the other’s face right into the floor but they got tired. They passed out there and were only discovered half an hour later by an exasperated Shiro.

But funnily enough the next day there were no fights between them. No arguments. No snappy comebacks. Just a tense yet respectful silence. They didn’t talk but…it still worked so Shiro made no comment about their way to hash it out.

It became a weekly thing. Tensions get hot again and Shiro points them to the training deck. They duke it out and the following week is calm and running smoothly again. Eventually, they don’t even need Shiro to tell them to go. They just meet there, fists raised and ready to fight.

It’s gotten to the point where the glares have stopped. They’ll comment on each other’s form. Mostly making fun of each other, jabbing at their weak points until they start lifting their guard faster. Straightening their punches so they connect better with fewer collateral injuries. There are less broken noses and more respect.

So why…why is today different?

Keith’s pulling his punches. He’s never done that before. And he won’t aim for Lance’s face anymore, opting for shoulders or places where Lance can get his guard up fast.

Now that he’s thinking about it…Lance has been doing the same. Holding back. He doesn’t want to hit Keith. Weird. Months ago there was nothing he wanted more than to throttle the guy. To wrap his hands around his throat and choke him. And now he…well, choking and punching aren’t the thoughts that come to mind when he imagines his hands on Keith.

Lance is so distracted by this thought he doesn’t register the grapple Keith attempts until it’s too late. Arm twisted and leg kicked out until he crumples to the floor with a yelp. Keith’s got him pinned with a disappointed frown.

“Where’s your head at? That was too easy!” Keith berates.

Again today is different. Lance normally would have scowled and wrestled back his control. He’d have called Keith some kind of obscenity and kicked him in the shin. But right now all he can see is Keith looming over him, hot hands on his wrists, warm legs pinning him at his sides. Lance attempts a swallow but his mouth–it’s bone dry.

Oh…no…

“S-Sorry,” Lance stammers and averts his eyes from Keith’s steely ones.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Keith asks, still frowning but this tone is tinged with a little concern.

Worried. Keith is worried about him.

“Nothing. Just thinking about dinner,” Lance huffs. “Get the hell off me.”

They begin again. Lance tries his hardest to stay focused but it happens again. His mind wanders to Keith’s hands. Those hands that used to punch him in the jaw but he doesn’t see them as clenched fists. No, they’re open palms gliding over his neck.

Lance attempts his own grapple but it’s poorly executed. Keith escapes easily and flips it on him. Arm twisted behind him and pushed to his knees, fingers tight on his hair and shoving him to the ground. He can’t tell if that warmth on his cheeks are shame or…something else. That feeling in his gut is something new and yet familiar.

“You lose again, Sharpshooter,” Keith smirks. “Ready to call it quits?”

Quit? But that means they’ll stop and Lance doesn’t want to stop for some reason.

“One more match,” Lance posits and Keith releases his hold.

“You sure?” Keith asks, his brow raised.

Lance nods and raises his fists. Keith shrugs with a smirk. He has no objections to another round.

Keith starts them off with a straight jab and left cross that Lance manages to avoid. He strikes back and Keith blocks them easily. Lance tries a kick and Keith catches his foot and yanks. He falls to the ground with another yelp and before he knows it Keith’s over him again. Wrists pinned with one hand and Keith’s dagger at his neck but nowhere near touching his skin.

“Lose again,” Keith snorts. “You’re off your game, Lance.”

Lance can’t find the annoyance to be mad about it. In fact, he feels…excited. Keith’s said his name a hundred times but this time makes his stomach jitter. Again when Lance tries to swallow he finds there’s nothing in his mouth to choke down. So dry. Why is it so dry?

“You sure you’re oka–-” Keith cuts himself off.

Is that a blush? On Lance’s face? He’s not struggling to free himself like he normally would.

“Have you been  _letting_ me take you down?” Keith asks, eyes still a little wide with shock.

At it being said aloud he knows it’s true. Lance’s face turns crimson as he averts his eyes away from Keith again. Keith’s eyes scan down to the body breathing under him only to find a hardon pressing against Lance’s jeans. Keith blinks with realization and drops the dagger with a clatter.

“Lance I–-”

“Don’t flatter yourself!” Lance frowns, the blush still clearly there. “I haven’t…had any in a while. And uh…getting thrown around is a thing I’m into. Doesn’t mean I’m into  _you_.”

“Oh?” Keith raises a suspicious brow. “So that’s why you let me pin you three times now, Lance?”

“Uh–-”

Lance has nothing to say to that. Keith smirks a little and lowers himself to sit directly on Lance’s pelvis. Lance draws in a breath as his eyes dart down to their contact point. The pressure on his crotch has his entire body quivering.

“You’re not into me, Lance,” Keith repeats.

God, he wishes Keith would stop saying his name. It’s…doing things to him in this position.

“So tell me to let you go. To get off you,” he adds. “Say it and I will.”

Lance opens his mouth. Keith waits expectantly for him to say something but no words come out. His lips just part and close and open again several times in attempts at speech. Slowly the corner of Keith’s mouth lifts in silent victory.

“Interesting,” Keith finally says a minute later.

Keith’s hands squeeze on Lance’s wrists and under him Lance exhales. Loudly. When he grinds a little, Lance closes his eyes with a gasp, that heat returning to his cheeks. Lance tries to bite his bottom lip closed when Keith does it again but only barely manages to stifle a weak noise.

“Should have told me sooner, Lance,” Keith says next to his face.

“K-Keith,” Lance exhales, his eyes opening just a sliver to see Keith over him. His own cheeks are turning a little pink.

“I stopped wanting to fight you  _weeks_ ago,” he admits. “To think…we could have been doing  _this_ –” Keith grinds hard and Lance gasps. “–instead of sparring for the last month. It’s a lot more fun, don’t you think?”

Lance can’t argue with that. He barely nods and Keith chuckles into his neck making his pulse skyrocket. The last time Keith’s face was this close to him they were spitting obscenities at each other. While that was intense, this is a whole nother beast entirely.

Without his meaning to, the second Keith’s hot breath caresses his neck, Lance bucks his hips with a weak moan. Almost simultaneously Keith grinds and they both let out a sigh. Keith’s breath is heavy on Lance’s skin as his mouth lingers close to his neck. He doesn’t go for it though, not yet.

“Tell me to stop…and I will,” Keith reminds him, licking his lips.

Lance weakly nods his understanding and tilts his head to expose his neck. Fully submitting to Keith.

Once Lance gives him the go-ahead, Keith doesn’t hesitate. He dives right in with an open mouth, sucking at Lance’s neck as the body under him bucks in response. He runs his teeth over that soft tanned skin, nipping at his jawline and pulse, eliciting sharp moans from Lance as he grinds over his hard-on.

It’s been so long. Since before they left Earth. Lance is worked up fast until he’s suddenly gasping and writhing under Keith. Keith’s hands tighten on Lance’s wrists resulting in a particularly powerful moan.

“K-Keith, oh…f-fuck,” Lance chokes out.

“Like that?” Keith smirks. “How about this?”

Lance’s hands were pinned at his sides but Keith wrenches them up and clasps them together above his head. His other hand grabs Lance firmly by his jaw and crashes his lips down onto Lance’s. Nothing but teeth and tongue and sloppy hungry kisses that have Lance moaning into Keith’s mouth.

“We can do this…anytime…we want,” Keith pants, the exertion finally getting to him. “Want to do this again?”

“Y-Yes,” Lance says, his mouth now seeking Keith’s and finding it with grateful moans.

“Good…me too,” Keith says.

Lance is close to tipping over the edge, close to coming in his pants when a voice comes over the speakers.

“All paladins to the flight deck, Galra fighters ETA in five dobashes!”

They have to stop but they don’t have to like it. Keith makes a move to rise off of Lance but it’s reluctant. He has his own stubborn hard-on that he’s trying to will away. With any luck, neither of them will run into anyone on the way to their Lions. And while alone in their cockpits they can hide it further.

Keith offers him a hand to help him up. Scanning his body up and down with a smirk as Lance dusts his pants and tries to resituate his bulge to be a little more discrete.

“Later?” Keith says.

“Y-Yeah,” Lance coughs, clearing his throat. “You’re not finished, uh, teaching me a lesson. So…later.”

After that, any time tensions were rising high (and sometimes when they faked them getting high) they’d go to the training deck to ‘work it out’. Being sure to lock the doors for a little additional privacy.


End file.
